


They See, But They Do Not Observe

by NerdsLover



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Caring Mycroft Holmes, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous John Watson, M/M, Mentioned Irene Adler, Mentioned Mary Morstan, Mutual Pining, Mycroft Holmes IS the British Government, Oblivious John Watson, Sherlock in Love, Sweet Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28571331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdsLover/pseuds/NerdsLover
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are in love with each other, Mycroft Holmes knows it and he can demonstrate it.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	They See, But They Do Not Observe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [niniii_ld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniii_ld/gifts).



> A Story Teller: You see, it all starts when Holmes meets Mary to the restaurant. He's analyzing Watson and he says Watson is brave, a hero from the war, an unique and special as his walking stick, that's he's good-looking and a gambler (because no one's perfect ^^") and I told my TV "My, this is such a declaration of love, come on Watson, you can't be so dense."
> 
> Niniild: "Oh my. Well... It's right. You should write a fanfic, dearie. I need it..."
> 
> What my baby wants, my baby gets. Merry Christmas Niniild <3
> 
> ***  
> I'm not a native, please, forgive my mistakes. I hope you will enjoy it <3

Christmas is supposed to be a merry celebration, everything is about love, about family, about traditions. Therefore, it may be a little awkward when three gentlemen as John Watson, Sherlock and myself spend it together. And it is downright rude to speak about what something is « supposed » to be, nothing is as it is supposed to be with the siblings Holmes, thank you very much.

As expected, I am not very fond of Christmas. I have purposes more important to attend and do not wish to partake in the socialities such a celebration necessarily entails. But, as no one is perfect, the elder Holmes does have his sins, the biggest one being my curiosity; hence, when I had received an invitation to spend Christmas with my brother and his best friend, my curiosity had been titillated enough to accept. And if I had known, I would have declined because, dear me, I had never felt more awkward than now, playing poker while sipping a glass of brandy, sitting between Sherlock and John. And, as Stanley will attest, I am not easily abashed.

My interest would have never been tickled if I had not run into the good Doctor as I were on my way for the Diogenes’ Club. The poor man seemed deeply upset, so I went out of my way (this is to say how much I appreciate Doctor Watson. I do not skip a meal at the Diogenes’ Club for anyone) and offer him to share my lunch in a pub. A good deed to be later rewarded, certainly. Or simply a bad idea as I had immediately deduced that Sherlock was the reason Watson was upset for. But my time was already lost, so I had to ask as well.

« Tell me, dear friend, what is making you so angry? »

« Oh, nothing important, do not worry. »

I would like to say the good Doctor really thought what was bothering him did not deserve to be talked about, but he was simply dying to complain about it to someone, really. He was just too scared to be judged and maybe roasted, perhaps worse.

« Watson, if someone can hear what it is that Sherlock did to upset you, it is his big brother, don’t you think? »

I punctuated my sentence by the warmer smile I could display, and the gates opened flawlessly.

« I am seeing someone, Miss Mary Morstan, and I think she’s the one, so I wanted to introduce her to your brother... »

_Oh dear, we are in troubles..._

« ... And I don’t know how I could even think he would be kind to her! Ah! I was not even asking him to be kind, just... Polite? Civilized? He can be such a gentleman when he wants to... Anyway, Mary got the bad idea to ask him to demonstrate his skills... »

_Poor thing. She would not know what was coming._

« ... And I have to say - it would not be honest otherwise - Holmes started by, well, by analysing me. »

_Oh. Interesting._

« But Mary insisted for him to exert his talents on her! »

_Isn’t it stupid? How can someone ask to be bared to the world like this?_

« And he did not miss anything, of course, not even her past lover, whom she did not leave but who’s dead. »

_And she felt offended, while she was the one who had asked to be stripped of her truths. Stupid._

« Of course, he hurt her, and she left. »

« And you followed her. »

« I did! I want to propose to her, Mycroft, I couldn’t just let her leave and stay... Stay... »

« You couldn’t stay, or you didn’t want to? »

That was cruel, I admit. I could see the conflict on the Doctor’s face. But a true friend does not tell what ones wants to hear, he says what is essential to tell. Well, Watson must know the answer, deep inside.

« Anyway, would you care to tell me what my brother deduced about you? »

_He looks so much relieved; it is almost painful to see._

« Oh, hum, sure. He... He talked about my walking stick, which is also a steel blade - it was a reward for partaking and coming back alive from the Afghan war - hum, it’s... It’s a great reward, so we were very few to get it, and he... He said I was as rare and lethal as the blade but... As elegant as the walking stick? »

_Sure. Sherly should have written a poem, it would have been less obvious._

« Very well, go on. »

« Yes. Hum. He said I was brave and that I have a smart appearance. »

_Good Lord. And he did not understand?_

« And then he... Hum. Talked about... My old... Gambling habits? »

_‘Old’, right? Sure, Doctor, we will talk about it another time._

« Very well. That was very enlightening, John. »

« Very enlightening, really? Do you deduce anything about all of it? »

It is so painfully obvious that it is not deducing but just listening. It was a passionate love confession poorly concealed with a half-hearted comment about gambling. And the sweet, adorable fool I had in front of me did not understand anything about it and was just so confused and ready to break my little brother’s heart.

« Certainly, but I’m sure you will be able to discover everything all by yourself when you will be ready for it. »

« I beg your pardon? »

No, no, no, I would _NOT_ explain the birds and the bees to John Watson. I did my share of good deeds by asking for his confession and listening to it. Enough!

« I am very sorry, Doctor, but I am waited somewhere else. It was nice to meet you, have a very nice day. »

... Fine, fine, let us say I did _half_ of my good deeds! I must talk to Sherlock...

***

I really had had the intention to send a letter to my little brother, asking him for an appointment, but, unlike Sherlock whose name is known by all of London, if not Great Britain, I had very soon learnt that anonymity is the real key to freedom, power and success, which I rightly can tell as the embodiment of the Government. But, as the embodiment of the Government, even as free, powerful and successful as I am, I have a lot of duties and responsibilities, and some of them simply can’t be put aside, even for rescuing my little brother from his own obliviousness. However, I can very well turn everyone I need into a mole for my account, and that is how I found myself, interrupted in the middle of writing a letter to the Belgian Prime Minister by PC Clark.

« I am deeply sorry to disturb you, Mr. Holmes, sir, but - as you wanted me to - I am here to report a strange exchange between Mr. Holmes - your brother, sir - and Doctor Watson. »

Of course, dear brother Sherlock does not know or does not care that Liège - a Belgian province - is the second industrialization centre in the world and that the English Government needs to have an accord with Belgium if our nation wants to stay the leader; why would I have other things to do than playing nanny to Sherly and baby Watson, I ask you?! But as PC Clark is a good constable and an even better man, as he certainly was sure he would help his two friends by coming and recounting their possible problems to their Mother Hen - in other words I - I put my pen down and encouraged him to talk.

« Well sir, I had come to Baker Street to tell Mr. Holmes about Blackwood’s resurrection - I’m sure you know everything about it, Mr. Holmes, sir, and therefore I won’t recall the whole sordid story to you - so, I was in the stairs when I heard Doctor Watson voice - and he had a strange tone, sir, all bitter and... And I may say ‘arrogant’ - nothing like the Doctor Watson we know, I am sure you would have agreed with me, sir, if you had heard him. So, I carefully listen to what Doctor Watson is saying - while trying my best to be silent, as Mr. Holmes surely would have heard me in the stairs or recognize my pace if I had not been this careful, and then I would not have been able to listen to what was happening. Anyway, I heard Doctor Watson talking to Mr. Holmes about a woman...

After this tediously long stage-setting, I could not stop myself from interrupting the policeman: there was no need for me to hear all his story if he were to inform me Watson and my brother had had an argument because the former wanted to get married. I knew and, as unfortunate as it may seem, my Belgian Prime Minister would still need to be first taken care of. But Mrs. Watson-to-be was not the problematic lady here.

« No, sir, this was not about Miss Morstan, Doctor Watson said to Mr. Holmes - I quote - ‘I don’t understand why you don’t love anybody but her’. »

My brother. In love with a lady. If I had not be sure I could trust Stanley with my life, I would have been certain I have been drugged and, therefore, was hallucinating.

« Please, go ahead, constable. »

« Yes, sir. So, Mr. Holmes did not answer - or if he did, I did not hear him, and I was listening very carefully so it’s really unlikely - and then Doctor Watson attacked again; he asked her if Mr. Holmes loved this person because she had humiliated him twice. »

_Irene Adler. Lord, no, surely Watson cannot be stupid enough to think Sherly entertains feelings for that woman?!_

« And then - if I may ask you to wait a second, sir, I took some notes to be sure I didn’t forget anything, here it is - he asked about what the lady needed, he said ‘an alibi? A windscreen? A human canoe? Does she intend to use you to navigate on the Thames?’. It was so brutal, sir, so uncharacteristic from the good Doctor Watson, I thought you would want to know that. Mr. Holmes can be somewhat... rude? sometimes, but he surely did not deserve it. Not if he’s trying to help a woman who’s dear to his heart. »

Dear Clark was very far from the truth, but his willingness to support Sherlock - even if the last has probably offended the constable countless times - was praiseworthy. I thanked him, gave him a tip for his disturbance (« There’s no need, Mr. Holmes, sir, it’s all very natural and it’s my job. »; « Your job is being a policeman, Clark, not my valet, all work deserves a pay, so take the damn money and go buying some tobacco in my name. »), and decided Belgium and it’s Prime Minister would wait a few more moments for I had to tidy my thoughts up.

So, Doctor John Watson, known by his acquaintances to be a good man, amenable, sympathetic, loyal - especially to my brother - had decided to laugh - rather cruelly - at his best friend’s, brother-in-arms’ depends. Not even laughing at his depends, stabbing him in his pride. Why? Why would a man to be married throw a tantrum - there is no better word for this kind of behaviour - because his best friend is (supposedly) in love? How the assumed feelings Watson thinks Sherlock has for Adler could be a bother? First things first, Sherlock is not in love with Miss Adler, and if Watson had not been so oblivious, he would know that, but he does not. There are only two options: either Watson wants to be the only one of the two to find love, get married, have a family; but it is very unlikely given the man is utterly unable to be this egoistical or ill-minded, either... Either he is jealous, not because he wants to be the only one to be happy, not jealous of Sherlock, but of Adler. He wants to be the one Sherlock is experiencing feelings for. He cannot stand the love he so desperately wants to be given to anyone else, especially not to a woman like Irene Adler, someone he is certain would break his dear Holmes’ heart without batting an eyelash. If the problem had only been that he thought the woman unworthy of Sherlock’s love, he would not have been this vociferous. And, if Watson is so sure his love is unrequited, why wouldn’t he marry Miss Morstan and try his second chance? My God...

Damn human’s soft feelings, Belgian blast furnaces and oblivious idiots in love!

***

I had to find a solution to avoid the tragedy of two pining men being separated by their own foolishness ; for their own good and my sanity. The idea comes to me rather simply, with the mail, when I was wondering what gift I could make to Doctor Watson if I took on their invitation for Christmas. And this is how I found myself, as I said, awkwardly playing cards with my brother and his best friend on Christmas day, ardently wishing I had been able to mind my own business or, even better, never heard about anything at all! But here I was and, when Watson got up to serve us another brandy, I took the opportunity to ask if we shall exchange our Christmas gifts. They both agreed, to my great relief.

What they got me, I could not care less, what I got for them would, hopefully, be the key to end everyone’s misery. They both got a letter I had written, explaining, step by step, that they were in love with each other’s, how I knew and why my deductions were absolutely correct, there was no need to try and deny them. I saw their eyes widening, their breath catching in their chests, their cheeks reddening. I saw them glancing at me, astounded, then at each other, first fearfully, then longingly. They, indeed, knew better than countering my observations. At the end of the letter were a wish and a promise: I wished for them to be happy with each other’s for the rest of their lives and I promised I would visit upon January 6th, date of dear brother Sherlock’s birthday, to make sure they had made good use of my revelations. Then another promise: I would take the matter in my own hands if, by my next visit, they were not a happy couple - in other words: I would explain everything clearly and out loud, no more secrets. It may seem like a threat, but it really was not. It was a real promise.

« Well, my friends, I think you have a lot to tell each other and I have other matters to attend, so if you would excuse me? »

Sherlock quickly gathered the remnants of his wits: « Yes... Certainly, thank... Thank you for coming and for... Everything? »

« You’re welcome, dear brother. Doctor Watson. See you soon! »

***

_January 6th_

« Mr. Holmes, Doctor Watson? Mr. Mycroft Holmes is here. »

« Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, one moment please! »

The door was indeed locked, and I could faintly hear their cursing muffled through the door.

« I told you brother Mycroft would come soon, damn it! »

« I was just kissing you! You were the one divesting me of my jacket! »

« Yes, I took your jacket off because I didn’t want it to get wrinkled! »

« Sure, so I suppose removing my waistcoat and my shirt was, also, a matter of avoiding wrinkles! »

« Exactly. Now, please, help me, I can’t find my trousers and brother Mycroft is either dead of mortification or of laughing behind the door! »

My...

« Take your time, Sherly! You had to make up for the time lost, I understand. »

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
